I wrote this while journaling one morning. I was feeling lost, but not sure why. Everything was exactly as it had been (thank you lockdown), but my mind still managed to wander somewhere else. My motivation had hibernated and the joy I thought I had once cultivated for good had disappeared – the mandela effect in action. I could have sworn it was here a second ago…
When I feel like this, I know it’s best to write.
You may have heard of “brain dumping” or “morning pages” or “free writing“. I basically just put my pen to paper and keep going until I can make sense of it. Or of something. Sometimes, what comes out is the same thing that came out the day before. My fears, my schedule, a gratitiude list, a resentment, my hopes for the future, an idea I have, affirmations (journaling is a great tool I use to hype myself up) – but sometimes, what comes out is something more powerful. Something really helpful. Something I had no idea was in me, and when I finally stop and read it back I think, ohhh that was what I needed to connect with today.
If you’re feeling ungrateful, put your hand to the paper and ask yourself what you need. Then write, and listen.
Wednesday February 24th 09:45am
Let fear counsel you in what you can conquer.
Allow judgement and anger to guide you to what parts of yourself you still need to love.
Doubt can be your signal that you need to connect with others, with yourself, or with your intentions.
To know oneself, and love oneself, is to know and love everyone else too.
Let your thinking brain take some time off. Just osberve. Zoom out.
Look around at all that is happening, and take a moment to acknowledge how amazing it is that you are here. That the people in your life are here. That we have all gotten to this point.
There is such beauty in moment to moment living and you can see it if you choose to.
Existence is a miracle that I cannot comprehend, so I sit in awe instead.
The sensational warmth of feeling the sun on my face.
The sound of people I do not know, but can recognise, because we are all the same.
The feeling of my chest expanding as I breath, unconciously, because my body works by default to keep me living.
The wind on my cheek that I cannot see, or hold, but somehow can feel and hear.
The colours. Hundreds of shades before me. Shapes, textures, spaces, all showing themselves to me.
Senses. All working simultaneously to give me this moment which is my life. My experience.
And this moment is all that exists. The now. For the rest of my life.